Send in the Clowns
by NancyY
Summary: Lee and Amanda are joined by an old friend to solve a clownish case. Can they walk the straight and narrow to solve the mystery under the make-up? Viewing Problem is Fixed.
1. Old friends and pretzels

Title: Send in the Clowns

Author: NancyY

Disclaimer: SMK and its characters are copyrighted creations. This story was conceived and written for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement is intended

Timeframe: The summer after the fourth season. For this story, the marriage is still secret.

Rating: PG - 13

You may consider this story as AU, since I've taken certain liberties with our intrepid super-spy. Please take any such liberties in the lighthearted way they were intended. I believe he remains firmly in character.

It was written awhile back, in response to a "U-Finish it" story challenge created by Cheryl and Lisa. Thank you Rita and Miriam, for the Beta. Any remaining mistakes are my own.

Feedback is appreciated in all its many forms.

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The scent was unmistakable--strong, tangy, and very out of place. Why did the Q Bureau smell like mustard?

Lee peered through the door and paused when another aroma tickled his nose. He couldn't place it, but it was familiar. It reminded him of warm summer days, long walks, and concerts in the park . . . the park? That was it--the pretzel stand in the park.

Next question. Why did his office smell like pretzels?

Familiar footsteps clicked down the hall behind him, and Amanda's warm hand rested against his back, as she leaned around to look and sniff. "Lee, why are there pretzels on our desks? Did we have a late night visit from the snack fairy?" She nudged him. "Go see."

A plump jumbo pretzel on a bright yellow napkin rested on the center of his blotter. Just a dusting of salt--with a little cup of mustard on the side for dipping--just how he liked them. Slipping out the napkin, he stared at it and then flipped it around.

Amanda squinted at the flowing script.

_Meet me at Schneider's_

_1:00 p.m._

_ E.F._

"E.F. is Emily." She pulled the napkin from Lee's hand. "She wants us to meet her at Schneider's Pretzels? I wonder why? I didn't even know she was in the country. And why the cloak and dagger?"

Lee sat on the edge of his desk, munching his pretzel. He'd forgotten how much he liked them. "Did you expect anything else? Drama is in her blood. I just wonder how she got them in here without anyone noticing. I guess we'll have to ask her when we see her," he said between bites.

Brushing the last pretzel crumbs from his hands, his gaze settled on Amanda's desk.

No one would know if he did it. Well, no one but Amanda, and who would she tell?

All alone. Soft, warm, and wonderful, and all his for the taking.

Lee prowled across the room, his eyes locked on his target, stalking his prey. Amanda squealed and jumped behind her desk, but he was unfazed. The joy of the hunt--the thrill of the capture . . .

He lunged for the kill . . .

"Back off, Bucko. That's mine." Amanda smacked his hand away from her pretzel. Her eyes blazed as she challenged him. "You already ate yours."

So, she wanted to fight, did she?

He changed his tactics and snaked a lightening fast arm around her waist, crushing her against him and ignoring her startled gasp. Before she could protest, his lips found hers, and he growled, deep in his throat. He kissed her breathless. And speechless.

She didn't put up much of a fight when he snagged the pretzel from her desk and swaggered back to his own.

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The jingle of the bells over the door alerted the frazzled young woman behind the counter when Amanda and Lee stepped inside. "Just a minute," she called, from behind bins marked Garlic Cheese and Sourdough.

Amanda called back, "No problem, we're here to see Emily Farnsworth."

The baker stepped from behind the counter lugging a basket of steaming pretzels. She was young, petite, and very, very pregnant.

"Here." Amanda pulled the basket out of the younger woman's hands and thrust it at Lee. "You take these, and put them over . . . um . . .where?"

"Over by the oven." The baker wiped her flour-covered hands on her apron, and then stuck one out. "Hi, I'm Anna, and Emily is my husband's aunt."

Amanda clasped her hand warmly and held on, pulling Anna to a chair and easing her into it. "Why don't you rest a moment?"

Anna sighed and kicked off her shoes. "Great idea. Oh, wait, you said you were here to see Aunt Emily, right." She cupped her hands and bellowed, "Aunt Emily, THEY'RE HERE!"

Amanda was impressed. Such a strong voice, coming from such a small woman. She'd be able to cut right through the television, sibling squabbles, and Little League cheers with no problem.

Emily strode from the back of the store, with a curt nod for Lee and Amanda as she bustled by. "Anna, I'm going to close up for a bit, while you rest. I need to have a little talk with my friends here." She locked the door, flipped the sign from Open to Closed, and disappeared into the back, with Anna in tow.

Amanda had to admire Emily's whirlwind efficiency; she hadn't had time to say a word.

A moment later, Emily was back. Amanda covered the ground between them in three strides and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so glad to see you. I missed you."

Lee was only a step behind her. He put his arms around both of them, enveloping them in a three-way embrace.

"Darlings, as nice as this reunion is, I think we have a problem." Emily pulled away. "Come along." She led them behind the counter, past a darkened office. Amanda could just make out a pair of feet poking out from under a blanket on a cot against the wall.

"Shhh" Emily shut the door as she passed. "Let's let Anna rest, shall we? The poor thing is due any day. We can talk in here." She opened the last door and flipped on the light. The storeroom was tidy, with boxes and plastic wrapped packages of cups and paper plates stacked along the walls. Several damaged chairs stood sentinel in one corner, and three wooden crates took up most of the floor space. "Pull up a seat."

Amanda sat on the edge of a crate, while Lee settled next to her, shoulder to shoulder. Emily scooted a chair closer. She stretched her arms and sat. "Ah, it feels good to get off my feet. I don't know how people do this sort of thing for a living."

Amanda's curiosity was getting the best of her. She always enjoyed Emily's visits, but this situation was a little strange. "We're both happy to see you, but . . . Why the pretzels? Couldn't you just call?"

"Of course, I could have called, but how much fun would that be?" She patted Amanda on the knee. "You're too literal minded. You need to relax a bit, like Lee here."

Amanda looked up at the silly grin plastered across her partner's face. No help there. He seemed to be enjoying her attempt to make sense out of the whole thing. Her husband alone was bad enough, but put Lee and Emily together and what did she get? A regular couple of clowns.

Amanda made one last bid for an explanation. "Could you at least tell me how you smuggled the pretzels into the Q Bureau?"

"What and spoil the mystery?" When Amanda didn't reply, she shrugged. "Oh, all right. Just this once. It was Ragmop. He just can't resist a fresh baked pretzel. And there isn't anything he won't do for me. We go back a long way."

They went back a long way? Emily and Ragmop? She knew there had to be a story there.

"Why--?"

Emily laughed. "Let's just say that he's done me a favor--a time or two. Who better than Ragmop to help me perfect my cleaning woman cover?"

"Now, down to business. I brought you here for a purpose, my dears." Her expression darkened. "All fun and games aside, my people should be contacting your people, even as we speak. There's something strange going on."

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"Emily, why don't you start at the beginning?" Lee asked.

"It's a long story, but I'll try to make it brief. I flew in from London three days ago for a short sabbatical, to spend a little time with my family, visit with my grand nephews, and to help around the store. Believe me, with Anna's pregnancy, they can use the help. The Shriner's Circus seemed like a pleasant place to spend the afternoon with my grand nephews. Wouldn't you think?" Amanda and Lee nodded.

"Well, this whole affair started with the clowns." Emily paused as Lee shifted in his seat. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," he mumbled. "Please, go on."

"Well, as I was saying, there was a clown--I believe he was part of a sword-swallowing act--who looked very familiar. I watched his entire performance, but it wasn't until the act was over that I realized who he was. I believe his name is Aleksei Stroyev. He's with the KGB."

She stifled a yawn with one hand. "Sorry. I couldn't pursue it then because the children were with me, so I went back to the circus alone on Wednesday, and then again last night. Last night, I spotted two more Soviet agents, one Leonid Belov, and . . . oh, what's his name? Ah, yes--Yegor Chaika. They performed with the other clowns in the center ring.

"Do you have any idea why Soviet agents infiltrated the circus? Three operatives seem like overkill. And why the circus?" Lee asked.

"No idea at all." Emily shook her head. "I did overhear one of them mentioning Friday night."

"Why don't we find out the itinerary for tomorrow? It might give us an idea," Amanda said.

Lee uncrossed his legs and stood. "I'll call Billy."

Emily smiled. "I'll supply lunch."

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Twenty minutes later, they sat in the storeroom surrounded by the scattered remains of their meal. Amanda dabbed at a drop of mustard on her collar, while Lee brought them up to date.

"It looks like Friday's performance is a big charity affair--invitation only. Everyone who's anyone in Washington will be there. Legislators, officials, and national defense types." He shrugged and rubbed his eyes. "This makes it that much harder. Any of them could be a target for the KGB. It could be an information drop . . . an assassination . . . state secrets changing hands . . . I have no idea. This is impossible."

"You have no idea how much better that makes me feel."

Amanda smiled when Lee pivoted and stared at her. "Why would you say that?"

"Well, the last two times the three of us worked together, I had no idea what was going on. I just did what you told me to, kept my eyes open, and hoped for the best. It worked out for the best, didn't it?"

Lee nodded. "Yes, it did."

"So," Amanda continued, "let me get this straight. A crime hasn't been committed, and we don't know what's going to happen?"

"Right."

"So, we have no clue?"

"True," Emily said.

"We're working off of our instincts and flying by the seats of our pants."

"Definitely." Her husband's grin spread.

"It's just like old times then." Amanda brushed the pretzel salt off her jeans. "Well, we do have some information. We just need to get more, right? Why don't we infiltrate the circus and keep an eye on them?"

Lee wiped a crumb from her chin. "How can we do that? They'll spot us as quickly as Emily spotted them."

"I have an idea."

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"No way, Amanda--I'm not going to do it. There's only so much I can give for my country . . ." Lee paced back and forth across the storeroom floor, stepping around crates and weaving between the scattered chairs. "I will not dress up like a clown. Period!"

"Stand still for a moment. You're making me dizzy." Emily snagged his belt as he stormed by, pulling him up short. "I don't understand what the problem is. It's an elegant solution--with the costumes and the makeup . . ."

Lee took a deep breath and tried to pull away, then gave in reluctantly when she refused to let go. He felt the heat rising in his face. Why couldn't they drop it?

"I don't like clowns, okay. No big deal."

Amanda and Emily shared a look.

"Lee, are you . . . um . . . afraid of clowns?" He could hear the surprise and humor in Amanda's voice and struggled to loosen Emily's grasp. She was stronger than she looked.

"I AM NOT AFRAID OF CLOWNS!" He finally succeeded in freeing himself and resumed pacing. "That would be ridiculous. I . . .ah . . . just . . . well . . ."

On his next pass, Amanda hooked her fingers into his back pocket and pulled. "Lee, sit down."

He thumped down next to her on the crate, and her grip on his pocket loosened. She trailed her fingers up his back to the base of his neck. As she kneaded the tension from his muscles, he leaned into her touch.

"Look, it's perfect, and you know it," she said. "I read a story in the paper this morning. The Shriners Circus is holding a Clown College tomorrow morning, for anyone who wants to perform in the charity show. They do it every year. All we need to do is provide our own costumes and show up. Everyone who goes to the College can go to the charity event and perform, and the best clowns get to perform in the center ring. It's a perfect cover."

"Where can we get the costumes?" Emily asked. "I could whip something up, but there isn't much time."

Lee bowed his head. Why fight the inevitable?

"I can provide the costumes--or the Agency can. We have quite a selection in Supply . . . what?"

Amanda tugged on the back of his shirt. "Why does the Agency have clown costumes? Isn't that kind of a strange thing to have lying around? Somehow, I don't think of clowns when I think of spies."

"Well, ah, good . . . you're not supposed to. It makes sense, if you think about it, though. Clowns are ubiquitous at parades and parties. You see them everywhere, and the only people who pay any attention to them are the kids. A clown is almost invisible. The Agency even offered a balloon animal class a few years ago." He shook his head again. "And, no--I'm still not going as a clown. I can be a roustabout--a little razor stubble, some dirt--I'll fit right in."

"Please remember that Aleskei Stroyev was a circus performer before joining the KGB. He will certainly spot you, if you don't fit in," Emily said.

"Lee?" Amanda gave his shirt another tug.

"Hmmm?"

"What is it with you and clowns?"

"Sweetheart, you don't want to know."

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Amanda followed Lee down into the catacombs beneath the Agency, with Emily trailing behind. It was dark and dreary, with a spine tingling chill in the air.

Lee opened the door to the storeroom at the end of the hallway and flipped on the light. "Here you go, ladies. You can use anything in here."

"Why didn't I know about this one? You didn't tell me." Amanda wandered into the cavernous room, past the boxes of coats and jackets, between the shelves of hats and shoes, and came to a stop in front of the clothing racks stacked three high--floor to ceiling.

"I guess it never came up."

"Oh my gosh, how are we supposed to find anything in here?"

Emily bustled past Lee and strode to the center of the room. She planted her hands on her hips and nodded. "This is my specialty. Lee, you run along and leave the costuming to me."

An hour later, the costumes were taking shape.

Amanda sorted through the wigs, finally pulling a mass of bright green curls from the box. It would work with the vibrant pink and green shredded rags and oversized black clown shoes that made up her costume. Next, she pulled out a shoulder-length mix of gold tinsel and red ribbons. This one would match Emily's red, flowered muumuu.

She sat on a crate and took a breather. Emily patted the last box back into place against the wall and plopped down next to her, with a weary sigh.

"Well, that's it then. We're all set for tomorrow. Now, I think you and I should have a little talk."

Something in Emily's tone screamed a warning, and Amanda adopted what she hoped was a bland expression. "Sure. Emily, if your nephew can spare you, why don't you stay at my house tonight. It's closer, and, well . . . you know, the boys are staying with Joe for the week, and Mother is visiting one of her friends in Oregon. I have the house to myself, and I'd love to have you . . . "

Emily patted her hand. "What a kind offer. Thank you. I think I'll take you up on it. That will give us time to practice our routine. However, that's not what I want to talk about."

"Oh?"

"Stop stalling and cut to the chase." The sweet, grandmotherly facade dropped away, leaving a hard-boiled interrogator. "Well, out with it! Who do you think you're trying to kid? Should I offer you and Lee my congratulations?"

Amanda felt her heart skip a beat and hoped she didn't look as shocked as she felt. "What, what do you mean?"

"Don't even try that innocent look. If you think for one minute that you can fool me, you've got another thing coming. I've known Lee for too long. Now, spill it, young lady."

Amanda searched for an exit, any plausible escape, but couldn't find one. So she wrapped her arms around Emily's shoulders and whispered, "We're married."

"Oh, well done! I knew it! It was only a matter of time."

"Emily, nobody knows but you." They'd been so careful. "How did you know?"

Emily smiled. "I could hear it in your words, and it was right there--plain as day--in every touch."

"Were we that obvious?"

She patted Amanda's shoulder. "My dear, I don't know why you chose to hide your relationship, but I suspect it's visible to those who love you. You might want to reconsider the path you've chosen. Life is too short to waste any of it on secrets. But I'm not going to meddle."

She stood, pulled Amanda to her feet, and gathered the costumes under one arm. "Let's go home. I'll show you how to do your makeup, and we'll look around the house and locate a few weapons. We wouldn't want to carry guns into the Big Top with all those innocent spectators, so we'll need to improvise."

"Weapons? I don't leave weapons just lying around the house." As Amanda said the words, images of lamp, books, baseballs, and whip cream scrolled through her thoughts.

"You'd be surprised," Emily said.

Maybe not.

They both turned as the door opened and Lee stepped inside. "Finished?"

"Yeah." Amanda sauntered over and ran her fingers over his cheek, around his collar, and into his hair. Smiling, she drew his head down and kissed him breathless. But not quite speechless.

He licked his lips and stepped back, clearing his throat. "A-man-da--"

Nodding toward Emily, he held Amanda at arm's length. She ducked to loosen his grip and came up in the circle of his arms, leaning against his chest. Before she kissed him again, she whispered, "She knows."

"She knows?"

"Yeah, she knows."

Emily smiled and pushed past them on her way out the door. "I always know."

TBC . . .


	2. Send in the Clowns

He never thought he would be chauffeur to a car full of clowns.

Lee drove the Cherokee, while Emily and Amanda adjusted their costumes in the back seat. A metal bucket filled with silk flower petals rested on the floor, and a fat plastic baseball bat balanced precariously across Emily's knees.

Turning onto the highway, Lee stole a glance through the rear view mirror. Amanda's features were obscured by greasepaint, her body was covered in gaudy multi-colored rags, and her hair was hidden under a halo of kinky, green curls. She caught his gaze in the mirror and smiled. He forced himself to focus on the road.

Minutes later, he pulled off the highway and onto the lot. The circus tent loomed ahead, a monstrous gray mushroom squatting in the middle of the Mall parking lot.

"Wow. Look at the size of it. It's huge!"

He grinned at Amanda's reaction. "I think that's why they call it a Big Top."

Hearing an odd, nails-on-chalkboard squeak from the back seat, he glanced at the rear view mirror. He should have known better.

Emily pinned the second of two large balloons under the front of her voluminous red, flowered dress. He couldn't tear his gaze away. But he kept trying. "Do you have any idea how that looks? Gives a new meaning for 'Big Top.'"

"Wait until you see the entire effect with the ones attached behind," Emily said, giving her dress a final tweak.

"No, please stop . . . stop . . . oh, Lee, the look on your face . . ." Amanda choked out, between snickers. "Please, don't make me laugh, or my makeup will run . . . you really don't want to see that."

Several other clowns walked toward the midway, and Lee pulled to a stop behind them. "Why don't I drop you off here, and you can walk in with the rest of the clowns. You should feel right at home. I'll drive around back and slip in through the back door. Let's try to meet up compare and notes during the lunch break."

Emily picked up her yellow plastic bat and reached into the car for Amanda's bucket.

"What are those for?" he asked.

"Props," Emily answered.

"Weapons," Amanda said, at the same time.

"Props and weapons. What do you intend to do, drown 'em or tickle 'em to death?"

The bat bounced off his shoulder with a hollow thwack. "Ouch! What did you do that for?'

Emily shook the bat in his face. "Tickle, huh? Oh, ye of little faith. Just keep yourself out of sight and out of trouble."

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Lee concentrated on keeping his balance as he walked along the thin catwalk that linked the three massive center poles. Ducking under the bale ring for the main pole, he tugged at the tent rigging and inspected the canvas, trying to look busy.

With each gust of wind that rippled the canvas overhead, the spider web of ropes and cables that connected the rigging to the poles shivered, and the catwalk swayed. He was glad he didn't get seasick.

Below him, clowns of every conceivable description swarmed, filling all three performance rings and spilling out onto the hippodrome track that curved in front of the grandstand seats. Amid the kaleidoscope of greasepaint and frenetic activity, it was hard to keep his attention on his targets.

Amanda and Emily seemed to have worked out a routine involving bat swinging, flower tossing, and balloon popping. They ducked and dodged, swung and dipped, in choreographed precision. How had they mastered those moves so quickly?

Perhaps there's a little clown in everyone.

Ugh . . . that was an image he could live without.

Two clowns climbed a rickety rope ladder to the crow's nest at the top of a nearby quarter pole and checked the rigging for the wire that joined their platform to another quarter pole on the other side of the ring. They assembled a bicycle around the wire, attaching counterweights and a balance pole. Apparently heedless of the distance between the wire and the net, they took turns pedaling back and forth across the ring and tossing confetti, which fell like slow rain onto the pandemonium below.

It was a surreal scene. Nightmarish.

Edging further along the catwalk, Lee marked the three Soviet agents as they practiced with the others. They were working together now, with several props. A tubular confetti canon was their current toy.

As one Soviet in clown's clothing clambered into the box seats, another scampered up with the canon and let the spectator trigger it. They cavorted back and forth along the track in front of the box seats, blowing confetti toward the ring.

Lee staggered to the end of the walkway, clinging to the guide ropes and fighting to stay on his feet as the boards shifted underfoot. He leaned past the last row of spotlights and peered over the edge, hoping for a clearer view.

The blazing lights were hot on his back, and the smell of wet canvas, stale popcorn, and overheated clowns was almost enough to knock him off his perch. He was missing something--he could feel it.

It was there. It had to be. He ignored the sounds and the stench and just focused on the clowns below.

And saw it.

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Lee leaned against the Pie Car, while clown after hungry clown filed in for lunch. Keeping his back to the colorful horde, he waited for Amanda and Emily to emerge. When they walked past him and sat against the sidewall of the main tent, he strolled by, with his hands in his pockets, and stood just outside the main entrance, watching them out of the corner of his eye.

"Someone in the front row is going to pass something to the Russians tonight. They used that confetti canon of theirs to . . . well . . . it's hard to describe. I saw them drop the tail end of the canon over a soda bottle that the other was holding. When they lifted the thing, the bottle was gone. It must have a false bottom."

"Can't we just pick them up now?" Amanda mumbled, around a mouthful of hotdog.

"No, that wouldn't be a good idea," Emily said. "We need to know who they're meeting and see the transfer--and catch them in the act."

Lee nodded. "I called Billy, and there'll be a few of our people in the audience tonight. But we need to be careful. We can't come in with our guns drawn and turn this thing into an international incident, or . . . well . . . a media circus."

Groaning, Amanda pulled herself to her feet and reached out to Emily, who was patting a sandbag with one hand and fingering her plastic bat. "The ringmaster liked our routine, so we'll be in the center ring tonight. I guess we just keep our eyes open. Where will you be?" She dragged Emily to her feet and brushed the sawdust from her costume.

"Don't worry, I'll be watching over you."

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Dressed in black, Lee lay on his stomach on the thin catwalk above the aerial rigging, as the circus unfolded beneath him. The reek of wet elephant, burnt popcorn, and cigarette smoke created a miasma that drifted up from the tarmac and permeated his clothes. Squinting through the smoke and hot lights, he winced as a headache crawled behind his eyes.

Acrobats, aerialists, contortionists, and clowns performed in the three rings, each act more outrageous that the last.

Directly below the catwalk, Emily, Amanda, and the clown brigade began their routines in the center ring. In a confusing jumble of top hats, fluffy collars, and baggy pants, the Russians jumped the ringcurb and trotted down the hippodrome track to the first row of box seats. In a flurry of streamers and confetti, they worked their magic, allowing spectator after spectator to trigger the canon.

He almost missed it.

A flash of greasepaint, an explosion of confetti, and the transfer was complete. The three hopped back into the center ring and tried to blend in.

Clown camouflage.

Looking for a fast way down, Lee spotted a long strand of web--the cotton-filled fire hose used by the aerialists during the previous act. Attached to the top of the tent, it dropped through the guy lines and dangled enticingly, just a few feet from the end of the catwalk.

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Stupid circus. Stupid clowns.

The whole thing was stupid . . . killer boring.

Aaron slumped on the worn wooden bleachers, with his arms folded, and glared at his Aunt. At least she was having fun. Why did she have to drag him along? He was too old for this baby stuff . . . could've been playing Donkey Kong, or even watching TV.

Anything but this stupid circus.

The skinny lady next to him gasped and pointed to the top of the tent. A guy in black was running along some boards. When he hit the end, he just kept going--right off into the air. It looked like he was falling, until he grabbed on to something hanging from the ceiling and sailed overhead.

As the guy swung back and forth, he also slid down, just like those pirates in the old movies.

Okay, so this was getting better.

The pirate guy hit the ground and rolled across the ring, knocking clowns around like a bunch of bowling pins. When he jumped up and grabbed a big one by his ruffled collar, the clown tried to bash him over the head with a long tube thing. Pirate Guy punched Collar Clown and sent him flying headfirst into the side of a tiny clown car.

A bunch of clowns piled out of the other side of the car, screaming and running off in every direction.

Cool. How'd they all fit in there? Leaning forward, Aaron strained to see.

The Tube Thing rolled across the ring and bumped up against a lady clown in a huge flowery dress. She musta had something under there, because, when she bent to pick up the tube, her front and back bounced up and down.

Gross. Grody to the Max.

Another clown in a black top hat closed in on Bouncy Lady. She put the Tube Thing between her legs and held her yellow bat in both hands--like she was waiting for a pitch.

Okay, that was stupid. Those things didn't hurt--you could whack someone all day and not hurt 'em with a whiffle bat.

She looked pretty serious, though.

Top Hat didn't seem afraid. He spread his arms and closed in.

Pirate Guy musta seen what was happening and ran for Top Hat. Guess Collar Clown saw it, too. He pulled himself out of the clown car and ran after him.

Before Pirate Guy could grab Top Hat, Bouncy Lady swung the bat, clocking him on the side of the head. It looked pretty real, the way Top Hat flew backwards and flopped to the ground.

He wasn't moving much.

Collar Clown closed in on Pirate Guy before he got to Bouncy Lady, and they started to punch each other out. Another clown in baggy pants jumped into the ring and headed for Bouncy Lady, too. She tossed the Tube Thing to another lady clown dressed in weird rags and huge black shoes. Rags caught the Tube Thing in one hand, grabbed a bucket off the ground with the other, and ran, with Baggy Butt right behind her.

Pirate Guy and Collar Clown were still fighting, when Bouncy Lady smacked Collar Clown over the head with the bat, flattening him like a bug.

Aaron jumped up and down in his seat, until his Aunt gave him "The Eye." It was getting wilder all the time. Who knew clowns could be this much fun? He tried to sit still so she wouldn't bug him, but he had to lean around a tall guy to see.

Rags was running with the Tube Thing tucked under her arm like a Nerf Ball, and the bucket was swinging from the other. Those big floppy shoes were sure slowing her down, though, and Baggy Butt was closing in fast. Rags tripped on the edge of the ring and fell, rolling all the way over and popping back up like a Jack-in-the-Box, still holding the Thing and the bucket.

Baggy Butt almost grabbed her. But she spun around, bashing Baggy Butt with the bucket. He fell over and rolled away, and she threw the bucket at him. Aaron could hear the "clang" as it bounced off his head, and he was buried in a puff of funny little flowers.

That musta hurt!

When Baggy Butt shook off the flowers and crawled after her, Rags hopped forward, banging the end of the Tube Thing on the ground. Something fell out of the bottom and Rags stuffed whatever-it-was down her shirt. The Tube Thing followed the bucket, but missed Baggy Butt's head and bounced off his shoulder instead.

Oh, wow! He looked pretty pissed!

Rags spun around and dived for the rope ladder on the tent pole next to her, and tried to climb the ladder. But it looked like the clown shoes were too big for the rungs, and she was getting nowhere, fast. She was yanking on a shoe when Baggy Butt grabbed her from behind. The shoe came loose, and Rags slapped him in the face with it. He fell back, and she climbed, pulling herself up with her arms and hopping up with one foot.

This was the kinda weird part--Rags looked almost scared. Maybe she was afraid of heights.

In the other ring, Pirate Guy and Bouncy Lady had Top Hat and Collar Clown flat on their stomachs. Pirate Guy looked up at Rags and Baggy Butt climbing the ladder and took off after 'em.

Aaron didn't think he'd get there in time.

As they got to the top of the ladder, Baggy Butt was closing in on Rags. She yanked off her other shoe and threw it at him. When it bounced off his head, he slipped down three rungs.

He didn't fall, though--too bad.

Rags made it to the little platform at the top of the pole. She was stuck, for sure. Baggy Butt had to know it, too.

Rags whirled and grabbed for the bike.

Bike? Why was there a bike?

The bike was balanced on the tightrope that stretched across the ring to another pole on the other side. There was a long, skinny stick thing across the bike's handlebars, and it all swayed.

Maybe there was trick to it, but you couldn't get him on a thing like that.

Rags looked like she felt the same way, but Baggy Butt was getting closer. As he got to the platform, Rags stepped over the railing and settled down onto the bike. He grabbed for her, and she pedaled furiously. Maybe she'd get away.

Aaron felt like cheering.

Halfway across the wire, the bike started to sway, and Rags pedaled faster. Now, Pirate Guy was climbing the ladder. Baggy Butt reached for another stick thing that rested on the platform railing. As Pirate Guy made it to the top and reached for Baggy Butt, Baggy Butt stepped off onto the wire, holding the stick in both hands.

Rags was pretty close to the other side, but the bike was wobbling. Just before she was pitched off, she grabbed the railing and hauled herself onto the tiny platform. She turned to face Baggy Butt and backed against the pole, but there was nowhere else to go.

Aaron didn't see a ladder on that side.

Rags was trapped, Baggy Butt was almost halfway across, and Pirate Guy couldn't stop him.

Narly! This was better than a movie.

Rags was watching Baggy Butt cross the halfway point and just standing there--doing nothin. All of a sudden, she stepped out onto the wire, holding the platform railing in both hands. She jumped a little, and then did it again. Her feet slipped, and she almost fell.

Aaron held his breath.

Rags pulled herself back up and jumped up and down on the wire. The wire didn't look like it was moving, but Baggy Butt sure felt something. He started to wobble, like the bike, just a little, at first. His stick thing leaned to one side, then to the other side. Aaron could've sworn that he looked worried.

Rags kept bouncing and Baggy Butt kept wobbling--until one last big bounce sent him over the edge, stick and all.

The roar of the audience drowned out Aaron's cheers as the clown hit the corner of the safety net, flipped over once, and flopped face down onto the tarmac with a thud and a puff of dust.

Oh, Man! This circus was bodacious!

SMKSMKSMKSMKSMKSMK

Lee stood on the small platform and gripped the railing with sweaty palms. As the roar of the crowd began to die down, he gestured to get Amanda's attention. She released her grip to wave back, but broke off the gesture abruptly. Lee felt his pole sway as the elephants thundered past, signaling the start of the final act. From her death-grip, her pole must be moving, too.

"HOLD ON! We'll get a cherry picker in here to get you down." Could she hear him over the raucous music that poured from the calliope? He couldn't tell. "Just hold on!"

Below, Agency personnel were loading Stroyev onto a stretcher. Amazingly, the audience seemed to think the whole thing was part of the show. Billy would be pleased--mop up operations would be that much easier.

Amanda crouched in the small space, with her back to the pole and her arms wrapped around the railing. A hundred feet away, Lee sat cross-legged on his own platform and watched her, as the elephants finished the final act. Keeping eye contact made him feel closer, and he knew she craved that connection, too.

Not breaking her gaze, she rested her head against the railing and reached into her shirt. She fished out a small cylinder and held it up.

They'd done it.

SMKSMKSMKSMKSMKSMK

Lee slid down the last few rungs of the ladder and jogged to the cherry picker. The long arm swung around and down and gradually lowered the bucket to the floor of the tent. Not caring who watched, he pulled Amanda into his arms before her feet touched the ground.

"You were amazing. When did you learn that high-wire bike trick?

She tucked the top of her head under his chin, and he felt her shiver into his embrace. "Learn?" Her voice was muffled against his chest.

"Well, that was exciting. I almost regret the performance is over." Emily patted Amanda's arm. "Oh, that was well done, both of you. Do you have it, Amanda?"

Amanda pushed away from the shelter of his arms and handed the small cylinder to Emily, who nodded toward Billy. "Your boss told me that this little gem is a guidance computer for a new breed of missile. It's a good thing we ran off and joined the circus. Here, take this." Emily tossed her yellow bat to Lee.

"What the . . . what have you done to this thing? It weighs a ton." The bat slid through his fingers.

"Take a good look." Emily walked over to Billy, who stood in the entrance.

Lee shook the bat and smiled as Amanda stooped to look.

"She filled it with sand."

SMKSMKSMKSMKSMKSMK

"It was wonderful to see Emily again. I hope we can visit before she goes back home." The sound of the bathroom fan muffled Amanda's voice. "It's a good thing Mother and the boys are out of town. If they knew I went to the circus without them, I never would've heard the end of it. 'Course, my costume would've been hard to explain . . ."

"Are you about finished in there?" Lee called, into the bathroom. He flopped down on the bed and sprawled, with his arms flung wide. It felt so good to relax. The fan stopped, and he waited for his wife to join him. Quality time alone was rare and precious, and he didn't want to waste a second.

Silence.

"Amanda?"

Slap . . . Slap . . . Slap . . .

The lights flickered off. He waited--nerves on edge and heart pounding--as the ominous sound grew louder. What was she up to?

SLAP . . . SLAP . . .

"Um . . . Amanda?"

The corner of the mattress dipped, and a shadow prowled across the bed.

"What . . . ah . . . are you doing? Amanda?" He shifted against the headboard and reached for the lamp on the nightstand, as his stalker slid over his knees and straddled his legs.

"Mmmm . . . just trying to help." Her husky voice radiated humor--and something more.

"Ah, help with what?" He lunged for the lamp, but she beat him to it, sliding up along his chest and slapping his hand away. The light flicked on.

"Boo!"

"Aaaaaaieeee . . . WHAT the . . ." Torn between horror and laughter, Lee fell back against the pillows, as his wife pinned him to the bed.

She wore a green, curly wig and floppy black clown shoes--and her face was drawn into a ghoulish clown grin.

"We can't have a grown man afraid of clowns, now can we? It would be ridiculous." She trailed her fingers along his chest and leaned forward. "We'll just work through it together."

He switched off the light.

She switched it on.

Lee felt her warm breath on his lips. "Lights on, and eyes forward, Scarecrow."

The End

Author's note. Yes, I left one, burning question unanswered. It was intentional.


End file.
